


Eyes in the Sky

by KennaM



Category: Clear Skies (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Dominion War (mentioned), Gen, Introspection, Spoilers through 1.28, Starfleet Academy (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26702185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KennaM/pseuds/KennaM
Summary: "Prahl feels himself smile and knows that’s his cue to peel off, get into position. This, he thinks to himself, is what he does for fun. It’s not the war, not the gun at his back, not the burning overhang and busy streets under his target sights. It’s the remembering he’s still alive. Feeling it all line up just right, nothing wasted. How after a near-perfect run of it, until all his intentions were dashed by the whims of the universe, he still gets to have a bit of what he wanted in the first place."Character study during Episode 28 bunker scene.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Eyes in the Sky

Lieutenant Commander Yeri Prahl had been to places like Paradise before, but back then they were honest and called them hell. The abandoned buildings crumbling and falling apart, the sure promise of danger around every corner, the heat trapped under layers and layers of leathers and fabric. He falls into an even march beside Lakat and everything narrows into focus. It feels quite literally like slipping into an old, familiar glove.

The first time he took a life had been right after his Academy graduation. He’d taken the commendations from his instructors, his string of perfect test scores, his new badge and pip and his new assignment, got on a ship back to his homeworld, and went under the knife. The metaphor worked either way; Yeri took Prahl, Prahl took Yeri. They both remembered the lives taken before, by a young Starfleet Lieutenant who shouldn't have been in that position, but did what had to be done when it came down to it.

Yeri, on the other hand, had specialized in security and tactics. He figured Security officers got to see the stars as clearly as anyone else on the ship, and he knew where his strengths lay. In hand-to-hand combat he refused to be overpowered, on the range he couldn't miss if he tried. Bullseye every time, not a single shot wasted, impressed looks from instructors _and_ the docent the Symbiosis Commission had assigned.

He wastes a few precious seconds now trading banter with Lakat. That’s familiar, too. She’s smart, with people as with her sensors, good at deflecting tension. He remembers trading jokes with friends when they didn't know who'd live to see the next day.

Prahl feels himself smile and knows that’s his cue to peel off, get into position. This, he thinks to himself, is what he does for fun. It’s not the war, not the gun at his back, not the burning overhang and busy streets under his target sights. It’s the remembering he’s still alive. Feeling it all line up just right, nothing wasted. How after a near-perfect run of it, until all his intentions were dashed by the whims of the universe, he still gets to have a bit of what he wanted in the first place. 

There was a moment there, months ago, when he opened the letter explaining his new assignment, that he allowed himself to hope. The USS Ross sounded so different. An experimental science vessel, with an experimental crew to boot, buried deep in the Beta Quadrant. About as far from Trill and Betazed as you could go in Federation space. It didn’t get much more ‘go see the stars’ than that.

The experimental crew was only half of the problem. Lietenant Commander Yeri Prahl was the other half.

He knew he was in trouble the moment he realized practically everyone in that meeting room already knew each other, easy familiarity that would be twice as hard for him to achieve now. Polite conversation was the one thing he could never perfect. So much small talk to fill time he was so determined not to waste. He stumbled over his words shaking Lieutenant Commander EXEO’s hand, furiously stamping down the boyish excitement of meeting the sentient hologram. Then suddenly it was a meal, and there was no making up lost ground.

They all made friends so quickly.

It was almost a blessing when the Cardassian crossed the room to sit down next to him. Lieutenant Jane Lakat; he’d read all the personnel files on his trip back to Earth, like anyone with half a brain would have done. She didn’t speak to him but Prahl didn’t need her to, her muted and suspicious trust was enough. The way this assignment was starting out, it was a relief to know someone had a good head on her shoulders.

When she flips that disruptor through the air and all but kicks it at the bunker door Prahl flinches and almost swears. Doesn’t, because he’s still on comms, but the muscle at his jaw definitely tightens. His eyes quickly sweep the street, but the only passerbys who noticed are now scrambling for safety. When he sweeps back she’s at the door. She taps the panel with an elbow, and Prahl realizes he’s not sure if that fumble was an accident.

It worked, but it’s not how Yeri would have done it. He’d had a three step plan to ‘go see the stars’ written up since he was a child. A little idealistic, revised as he grew older. Novels traded for historical biographies, sports traded for martial arts training. Even target practice had started as just a way to make sure his eyes didn’t deteriorate. Anything to get a leg up on his peers, to raise his chances to the sky.

After graduation, Yeri couldn’t tell his classmates why he was flying back home. Couldn’t even say his name was changing until he knew what it was changing to. He got good at playing his cards close to his chest, but it was honestly a relief when the Commission released their statement and Starfleet added that little note to his file. “Joined.” An accomplishment to be proud of openly.

He breaks his silence to chew Lakat out for saying ‘Captain’ one too many times over the comms – it’s ‘secure’ but you can never be sure – then feels his gut sink when the Captain breaks theirs to call out his blunder as well. It frustrates him, but they’re right, of course. It was a rookie mistake, one that could have cost lives six years ago. Or now. The war may be over but the universe is still chaos.

When the story came out, they learned it had fallen apart before it even started. Changelings infiltrating governments across the quadrant. Tal Shiar infiltrating Starfleet Command on Earth. The Ambassador should have been safe – they were a civilian, and Prahl had only barely reported for duty, the ship still in dry dock. Then Intelligence got involved, and the Captain got cagey, and any chance of a quiet assignment flew out the airlock.

Funny how easily things broke down.

Prahl couldn’t afford to, not with civilian lives under his watch. Couldn’t let the Trill spots rankle him when the doctor’s job was done, couldn’t dwell on the familiar Vulcan standing beside his Admiral, couldn’t take his eyes off the Vorta stinking up the Ambassador’s suite. Clench his jaw, straighten his spine, ignore the pain in his chest, the sweat on his brow, the blood on his hands. Line up the target sights. Take a breath.

Paradise isn’t a war zone, despite how familiar it feels. Neither is the Ross. They’re both chaotic and inefficient, and lives are on the line, but the mission isn’t to take those lives. It’s to protect them, when he’s allowed. Keep an asset alive long enough to gather the intel they need. It isn’t what he signed up for, feels weird. He can't tell if it's a waste or not.

The busy street has turned quiet. A group of kids pass by closer than he’s comfortable with, and Prahl watches the ball they’re kicking. Makes sure it doesn't go the way of the disruptor. A slight breeze picks up, but it doesn’t penetrate the layers of protective clothing. Neither does the giant, skin-burning star inching slowly across the sky. There’s nothing for his target sight to focus on, but that’s good, too. A quiet assignment.

When the group finally leaves the bunker no one needs to call him down off his perch. One last sweep and then he's sliding off, weapons hidden, release a breath. Falls into an even march at the back of the group, clocks a glance from Lakat but she's not surprised. His report is quick: no danger. And the mission's not over.

As a naïve kid, Yeri wanted to see the universe. There is so much of it, and you got to see so little in a single lifetime - he didn't want to waste a second. He wanted to see new stars, go on adventures with friends. 

As a Starfleet officer, Prahl had seen enough. Somewhere between gaining a name and losing a commander he realized it was the quality, not the quantity. Of friends made, of time spent. He'd stay in Starfleet, go where they sent him, keep his commission for now. Clench his jaw and follow orders, protect his crew. But when the time finally comes, he won't renew that commission. He doesn't have a plan for where to go afterward. Hopefully somewhere new.

**Author's Note:**

> Unorthodox request, but if you see any mistakes please let me know! I've... never watched Star Trek....


End file.
